Luyện nghe bài hát Rock Drill/Iron Ration

It took us some time as it's up yours
- we had the furnace, the and the ore.
But as stood, we needed a crew
I consider the Pope, I you.
But the Pope got enough tanks for me
and he drives no 603.
So beat is Stef-f, Real Raz the chorus
needs Pon-X, Mars needs Humble Boris
Sound is OMNITRON, the of steel
- No 98-Olds, no
But the Trans-Siberian grind railroad,
the sure-win toad eat toad.
The funny-peculiar station,
the district and the Iron Ration:

An I for an I at the rate of exchange;
another reduction, target in range.
Burning - what a smell!
Silly goat - my hell?
Got no soul - to sell?
The better hand with the few as it seems
the alarm clock punched the jaw of my dreams
Dog eat hot dog the loss but made no bids
and the lost their taste in the mouths of the well-behaved kids.

and noise
drink and
The around.
More often less
we drink to
The pulls us down.

if you love the Saviour, sing him a song.
If the leopards sing to the bones, they just sing along?
Burning love - a smell!
Silly - where's my hell?
Got no soul - to sell?
Can we have more faith in him than in drives?
or should science fill our as it fills our lives?

The Coming in a second or maybe too late, or
fiction seeking another creator.
There are so many futures that we may to live in
- the past be given.

and noise
drink and
The around.
Amnesia
to our lives
we drown.

Honk if you love to bonk up the tonk teenies.
Industrial history some pretty good sceneries.
Buffalo soldiers, splice your tapes and
for the earth policy has us all up for a ride.

The COMECON in romper suit and felt-pen moustache;
stone-faced bought up by hustlers.
the little pigs and crooks who die in the telly
our will be smelly.